Page 15 of Blood and Roses

A ride would help clear it from his mind. He needed to enjoy the wind off the lakes and the sound of nothing but nature.

As he neared the stables, he heard people laughing. Rosa was feeding the horses sugar cubes and squealing in delight as their velvety lips nibbled her hands. Old Roger, the stable master, was looking at her with affection. He would've known Rosa as a girl.

"You'd better not keep feeding those to Caesar, or he'll expect treats all the time," Balthasar said, and she glanced up, her face still filled with childish delight.

"He is beautiful," she said as she patted the stallion's neck. "I haven't been this close to horses in years."

"Watch him. He tends to bite those that annoy him, like his owner," Balthasar joked lamely.

"Don't worry. I'm afraid of neither," she said, her cheeks flushing a mild pink before stepping away so that he could get into the pen. She retreated to Roger and spoke easily with him, a small flask passing between them.

Balthasar saddled Caesar and led him out.

"Aren't you worried about breaking one of his legs on the wet ground?" Rosa asked as she joined him, patting Caesar's front flank. "Or nervous about him throwing you off in the dark?"

"He's a good horse who knows how to stay on the trail," Balthasar said as they walked out of the stable yards. "I wouldn't take him if he was in any danger."

"Good, because I like him. He has personality." Rosa glanced from Caesar back to Balthasar. "Even if he is moody."

"He doesn't get to see many people. Perhaps, with your help, his manners might improve," Balthasar replied, "though all horses are capricious in nature, so I don't like your chances."

He started to smile, but at the same time, he spotted Eli looking down from a high window. Rosa followed his gaze, and then she gave the king of the Gwaed Gam a big, friendly wave. Balthasar choked on his laughter as Eli stiffly returned the acknowledgment.

"Ha, I will win him over yet," she said triumphantly. "I swear if he smiled, his face would probably crack and fall off."

And he probably just heard you say that too.

"He has a lot on his mind," Balthasar managed, trying to think of something else to say. "How are you settling in?"

"Not well, if you were to ask my mother," Rosa said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"How is Cecily? I heard she had another spell yesterday."

"She's up and about today, ready to be disappointed in me for drinking too much wine last night and not getting up at dawn this morning."

"I can't imagine being back here can be easy on you. I wouldn't worry too much about Cecily either. We children are hard-wired to be disappointments to our parents. I'm sure you will grow easy in each other's company again. Trust me, I speak from experience."

They reached her cottage, and Rosa gave Caesar one last pat as Balthasar swung himself up into the saddle.

"Have a nice ride," Rosa said as she opened her garden gate.

"I will. Good evening, Miss Wylt," he replied. As he watched her disappear inside the cottage, he felt lighter than he had in months.

Rosa knewthat she wasn't going to get much sleep that night, so she decided to do the next best thing, which was to go up to the mansion's big kitchen and bake bread. Ever since she had crushed the fresh rosemary in the garden, she hadn't been able to shake her craving for Pan Marino, her favorite rosemary sourdough.

Braving the cold, she took a flashlight from under the sink in the kitchen and raided the nursery. Back inside, she shredded the stalks, bruising the sharp leaves between her fingers, releasing their fragrances and flavors.

Rosa let her mind drift as she measured out flour and yeast and started to knead. She thought about Jane, Balthasar, her father, and the Wylts until it was all churning about in her brain. She put the first loaf in the oven and had started on a second when the kitchen door opened and Balthasar the younger walked in, looking ruffled in a night robe.

"Hello again. What are you doing up this late, Miss Wylt?" he asked. "Don't you remember the guard dogs get let out at eight?"

"I remembered. I just don't care," she replied as she waved a wooden spoon at him. "If they give me any grief, I'll whack them."

"I'm sure the dogs will be terrified," he answered sarcastically.

"How was the ride?"

"Cold. What are you making?"

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